


Kitchen Perilous

by Oparu



Category: Star Wars Original Trilogy
Genre: F/M, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-11
Updated: 2016-04-11
Packaged: 2018-06-01 13:21:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,019
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6521500
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Oparu/pseuds/Oparu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Leia and Han try to cook for Luke and Chewie, it doesn't go well.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Kitchen Perilous

**Author's Note:**

  * For [glorious_clio](https://archiveofourown.org/users/glorious_clio/gifts).



> For Glorious Clio, who inspired this and forced me to write it. ;)
> 
> Forced me.

"Leia, it's already dead," Han reminds her. He hovers behind her, as if he’s about to take the knife from her hand. “I needed it diced, not eviscerated.”

Luke wouldn’t get that close, not when Leia has that look on he face, but Han likes to push his luck. Always has. 

“Do you really think it’s in your best interest to critique the person with knife?” Leia tugs a bone free from the flesh beneath her fingers.  “A knife you keep reminding me is sharp, very sharp.”

Han chuckles, turning back to the sauce he’s reducing on the stove. “If you kill me you won’t eat.” 

“I’m quite accustomed to field rations, thank you,” Leia replies, and that haughty tone sneaks back into her voice. Han raises his eyebrows and then they just look at each other, and that crackling is not the stove. 

Chewie rumbles his agreement with the look Luke didn’t know he was making.  He tears apart the bread and hands Luke a big chunk of it. Han and Leia insisted on making them both dinner, because Luke’s been off with Rogue Squadron for the last two weeks and they’ve finally moved in together. 

It’s been tough, Chewie explains. They’re dancing around the idea that they should get married, but there’s a tremendous amount of paperwork involved when you want to get married as the last princess of a dead planet. They’ve always been tense, walking the line between caring for each other deeply and needing to snap at each other. He remembers all their arguments on Hoth quite vividly. There’s a tension between them that living together hasn’t tamed. 

“Leia is terrible with a knife,” Luke whispers around the bread. He only cooked a little with his aunt, but even he knows not to hold a blade like that. 

Leia lifts the knife and stares down it at Han. “Besides, there are many restaurants, nice ones, within walking distance, and that’s without needing to count those dives you eat at.”

Han deftly takes the knife from her hand and hands her a smaller one and a new cutting board for the herbs. “Dex’s is an institution, Leia, we’ve been over this.” 

She twirls the small knife in her hand, and there’s so much threat in her fingers that Luke gulps. “I’ve always thought you needed to be institutionalised.” 

Chewie chuckles, then shakes his head. They should just get takeout. There’s a great little Sullustan place around the corner. He knows what they get. 

“Now, you do the little friic bulbs like this,” Han explains, wrapping his hands around hers. 

“I know how to squash them.”

“Like the enemy,” Han jokes. “I’m sure.” Leia nudges him with her shoulder and he laughs and then there’s a pause and the only sound is meat sizzling in a pan and Chewie grabs Luke’s shoulder and drags him out. 

In the corridor, Chewie shrugs and mutters that on Kashykk, you find a good tree and get some alone time. Here, it’s more complicated here. 

“Is it just waiting to get married?” Luke asks as they head down and across the skywalk to another building and Chewie’s favorite restaurant. They’re going to end up with too much food, and he doesn’t understand why they need to buy more food since Leia and Han seemed to have calmed down a little. They weren’t snapping when they left. 

Chewie orders and gets a discount because he’s such a flirt. They sit, sharing the last of bread they took from Han and Leia’s table. 

Waiting hasn’t made it easier, Chewie rumbles in explanation. They’re both impatient. Leia had a long day. Lots of reasons. 

Luke still doesn’t quite get it. They were so happy on Endor, and kind of stupidly so in the weeks after, before his mission. Leia sent him a comm explaining that they were starting the paperwork to get married, but that they’d wait for him, because they want him there. Han sent a similar message, more sarcastic, about marrying his sister, and they’re happy. 

Just, kind of angry about it. Maybe they just don’t cook together well. He opens his mind as they wait, listening for Leia. She’s happy and joy rushes over him like a wave of light. Love follows, creeping slower, like heat from the bottom of his toes. That’s good. They must have worked things out, maybe dinner’s done, because the smell of Chewie’s bags of takeout is incredible and he’s so hungry. 

Field rations aren’t good, no matter what Leia says. 

Chewie knocks, which is weird because they just let themselves in earlier, and it takes a moment, then Han answers. His shirt’s open at the top. Was it before? 

“Thanks Chewie, and sorry, kid. Table’s all set.” 

Plates, cutlery and glasses sit on the table, neatly arranged with two bottles of wine. The bread’s in a basket now, and it wasn’t before. Was it? 

Luke glances over at the kitchen and it’s clean, perfectly clean. All the cutting boards, knives, pans, they’re gone. 

Leia emerges from the bedroom, her hair down in a lazy plait. It was up before, and that’s a different shirt and her face is flushed pink. 

She’s not blushing. 

Chewie thuds his shoulder when Luke doesn't move to sit down. He drags him to a chair and hands him wine. Wine will help. 

Wine better help. 

“We ended up making desert,” Leia says. She makes eye contact with Luke somehow, but it suddenly hits him what he felt.  _ That _ . 

He swallows his wine in two gulps and Chewie pours more. 

Han’s starting to flush pink. 

And the kitchen’s clean. 

So very clean. 

Han toys with Leia’s hair, because there’s something in her plait and she says she’ll wash it later and they just look at each other, and it’s the most horrifying, loving, thing. 

He half-chokes on his wine because he reached for her. He felt her and she was happy. Of course she was happy. 

_ That  _ ought to make her happy. 

Chewie purrs his sympathy and hands him rum, before he starts filling Luke’s plate. 

He needs that drink. 


End file.
